


In Your Love

by CHURRiO



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: ??????? - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Inexperience, Vanilla, Yaoi, acquaintances to friends, i dont know what to tug ujjjjhhh, porn with feelings are my one true terror sometimes when it comes to writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHURRiO/pseuds/CHURRiO
Summary: He was unsatisfied. He disliked the sudden blankness that he crawled on his skin. As much as he searched for an answer, or yet even a slightest clue, he was left empty and incomplete. His self-worth suddenly washed itself away, but he wouldn’t ever dare reveal it. He would never show, not even a fickle of it. He’s mastered the art of Martial Arts, and thus he’s mastered the ability to hide his inner conflicts under a thick dense cloth. It was as if the fire inside him was slowly dying, and all that’s left were ashes.When he encounters Taro, everything changes.





	1. My Eyes Will Look to You Even Today

**Author's Note:**

> '' your love embraces me every moment  
> my eyes will look to you even today  
> your love is my only strength  
> my soul will rest in your love ''

The freshman year of high school was a hazardous adventure for most. With freshman year came the transition from middle school to high school, came the expectations piling up after one another, came the growing pains and adjustments one has to go through. The things to expect during this period of time was something to grovel over -- the start of high school may be enticing at most, however will be a big adjustment -- new classes, new students, new classmates, new teachers, and often an entirely new campus to navigate.

You see, Budo clung onto these expectations; or to rephrase it, rather, these expectations clung onto him. He believed he was going to do alright in high school, idiotically optimistic at that point in time. He was a firm devotee when it came to righteousness, that those who wrong must be apprehended. His strong sense of justice had led him down to this path, and this firm sense of goodwill remained within him. This perception had become a part of him, that factored as a portion of his identity.

He remembers his middle school years, back when he was a free soul, with leashes unbinded and nothing restraining him. Back when he’d get into fights and scoldings with his friends. He remembers back when he had nothing to worry about; not even an ounce of regret nor disdain tainting his social image. The bright light that resonated, how it had burnt the nerves coursing through his skin.

Those years were hectic, yet it rushed the adrenaline through his veins, but even then, he’s moved on. Middle school was a challenge to let go of; the joy that lit his face alight, and the overwhelming excitement drenching him dry. Now that he was in third year of highschool -- to clarify, third year of senior high school -- he resolved his worries to bury the hatchet and reminisce of the ghostly memories that wandered in the past.

If he were to be honest, nothing bothered him. His high school years are pretty much tamed under his grasp, and he preferred it to be tranquil and molded by his hands. Ever since he became the blinding light of the Martial Arts club, he’s been working hard to impress everyone without breaking a single sweat. The hardships he’s encountered before he was who he was were a challenge to him -- a challenge he enjoyed and pranced along with. In his previous year, subduing the Martial Arts club’s previous leader was a hectic obstacle, yet at the same time something he was prideful of himself. To everyone, he seemed like the ideal role model of the school -- the next possible candidate to take the throne of presidency in the student council right next to Megami -- and if not everyone, the majority of the campus does.

He was proud of himself -- full of pride and fulfillment, even -- yet, oddly enough, with all of these accomplishments and worth he’s gained throughout the years, he thought as if that… something was lacking.

Perhaps it could be his sense of adventure, or the need to pursue higher than he already was, or the thrills that pump his engine when challenges dared to pin him down. There was something that was lacking, and he wouldn’t hesitate to tear himself apart just to discover the emptiness that’s been irking him eagerly.

He was unsatisfied. He disliked the sudden blankness that he crawled on his skin. As much as he searched for an answer, or yet even a slightest clue, he was left empty and incomplete. His self-worth suddenly washed itself away, but he wouldn’t ever dare reveal it. He would never show, not even a fickle of it. He’s mastered the art of Martials Arts, and thus he’s mastered the ability to hide his inner conflicts under a thick dense cloth. It was as if the fire inside him was slowly dying, and all that’s left were ashes.

When he encounters Taro, everything changes.

Well, he wouldn’t say ‘everything’, but most things. This emptiness that engulfed him was a conflict that waited for its resolution, a question that waited for its answer -- but the emotions were there, and it made his heart bleed at its very core.

It all started in the plaza, located in the middle of the main building of the campus; this was back when everything first began. Taro was unfazed at most -- the way he didn’t blink twice at Budo’s sudden disturbance of his time and started quarrelling with him, the way he retaliated to prove his point that was opposing to his in an incisive manner, the way he answered him without any sugarcoating like he didn’t know who he was talking to. The ruthlessness with which savagery and fierceness burst bright colors from his chest made him alive, complete, and whole for the first time since the emptiness gaping in his chest ruined the inner image of himself. Budo would have to admit, otherwise he wouldn’t call himself a man anymore, that Taro truly did kick his ass during that intense exchanging of words. 

At first, he always viewed Taro like the cover of a book; a coward, a prey quivering before its predator, a weak-willed person who easily backs down under a single retort. He regarded him as a dull, colorless person who easily blends within the crowd -- a generic example of a young man who happens to be blind by what is occurring before him. Budo knew that it was wrong to judge someone without even being aware of their behaviour; he was awfully aware, and he wouldn’t be lying if he said that he was glad that he, Taro, contradicted and won over him, Budo, who was known to have a hundred-percent winning streak.

He wasn’t aware of this fellow student; in fact, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was classmates with him from the very get-go, but the way he bickered with confidence felt extremely familiar. Now he sees, now Budo sees the main cause of the sudden flame lighting in his chest -- this boy became one of the most unconquerable challenges of all -- he was the one responsible for the rushing adrenaline coursing through his veins, and just by the thought being expressed filled him with excitement and eagerness. There was a small, bright flicker of the person he was before.

Now, that event occurred months ago, and progress was ominously slow. Budo hasn’t -- and couldn’t -- talk to Taro since then, due to the little anxieties creeping on his skin. This was unusually unlike him, and he despised himself for it. There are moments where he would take swift glimpses of him reading his book that would change covers and bookmarks throughout periods of time from far away, and moments where Budo would initiate small talk, as to which ends pretty quickly to his dismay.

The bell rang deafeningly loud, snapping him away from his trance as his vision refocuses on the area he was in. His eyes were billowy and puffy, like he just woke up from an all nighter, or he woke up sobbing after having a bad dream -- the dream, in this case, is his trance that led him astray from class discussions and daily chats. These zen states were occurring pretty recent lately, and they were being a nuisance to his daily routines.

I should do something about this, Budo thought, a drop of sweat crawling over his temple. He fixed his posture and relaxed his shoulder blades on the backrest of his seat. It’s his fault in the first place that he’s been zoning out, and that he’s been counting sheep through sleepless nights, so he should take responsibility on this! Right?

Budo ruffled his hair -- if only he hadn’t approached him that day, he wouldn’t be so occupied with thoughts about him every single minute. Budo thought, was it such a bad thing to him, though? Just by a single thought of him, butterflies bloomed in his stomach, and of course, it felt weird. It felt like -- the good kind of weird.

He glanced to look at the wall clock above the board -- exactly 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and he notices that it was the bell for lunch break. Majority of the students and classmates all rose from their seats and began leaving the classroom, some with lunch boxes and bentos in-hand; chatters and laughter followed soon after. One of those students was Taro, who was holding a bento as soon as he left the classroom.

The Martial Artist, taking the sight into sudden realization, jolts upright at the sight of Taro. “Hey!” He yelled, trying to gain his attention. His unwavering determination of confronting this boy once more never faltered, but only grew stronger than ever as time passed by. Other students glanced to the side, unsure of who he was calling out to and began whispering to each other. “Hey! Yamada!” Budo growled, gaining surprised looks from other students. He dashed towards the exit doors of the classroom, exerting energy on his legs as he ran through the hallways.

With clenched teeth, Budo ran through the staircase leading to the rooftop in a rush. He was chasing after him, and oddly enough, he suffered like he wasn't catching up -- as if his sheer speed wasn't good enough to catch up with him. Suddenly, under a single misstep, he became reckless and was about to fall down the stairs. “Shi–”

Before he could land flat on the ground by his back, he discerned a hand roughly grasp his wrist; this hand was able to save him from being sent to the school clinic, and so he felt relief wash over him.

“Great– Can you lift yourself up?” The voice was familiar, yet had a hint of struggle. “Oh– Oh, whatever,” they retreated on their words, hesitance evident in his tone. Clinks and clatters resounded within the staircase and the hallways that followed after, and Budo observed another hand shortly following after the other that clasped his wrist. With the familiar voice straining to pull Budo up, and with Budo putting an effort pull himself away from his tragic fate, they managed to lift him safely to the next stair.

“Masuta-- Are you okay?” The voice asks, writhing in worry for him -- his tone was tender in a way that it brought him comfort.

Budo nods, flustered over his negligent actions that caused to drag someone in his endeavor. “Yeah.” Dredging off any dust that landed on his school uniform, he looked up to meet this mystery person’s face. “Tha–” He gawked. Budo ate his words, and his heart stuttered in his ribcage. With short, messy, dark hair whose strands rested gently on his skin, charcoal grey eyes that shined like the brightest orbs in the universe, and light fair skin that, when his fingers brushed against it, was soft and glabrous at its finest -- it was Taro. Taro Yamada.

A faint blush crept through his cheeks. Had he realized that it was Taro in the first place, and he would’ve snatched his hand away and fell drastically down the stairs -- but in this situation, as it may sound cheesy, he apparently fell for him even deeper than ever. His heart rate spurred and his ears reddened, suddenly becoming conscious if it was easy to read him like an open book. Who would’ve thought that Taro would have baby-soft skin? Who would’ve guessed that his dull-colored eyes could burst so much chroma and glow? Who would’ve guessed that his messy hair could be this smooth and satisfying to the touch? Was it just him, or was he over-glorifying the sight he’s taking in at this very moment?

“You don’t have any injuries?” Taro gave him a small, feeble smile. “That’s good.” 

Budo turned scarlet, staring into his eyes deeply. After a few seconds he glanced away, only to look over Taro’s shoulder and notice the bento box thrown aside carelessly. “Wait–” he leaped towards the lunchbox and nabbed it in his hands, “you threw this aside, didn't you?” He paced towards Taro and returned it to him, convicted.

“Yeah, but it’s better than you getting into an accident and falling down half a flight of stairs.” Taro states, murmuring a ‘thank you’ as soon as he grabbed his bento box from the other’s hands.

Budo was aware that Taro, in fact, is a generous and considerate person to begin with; he’s witnessed scenes where he helped numerous individuals in different occasions, and for what? What was he asking from them in return? This boy wasn’t expecting any consolation gifts and presents, and simply accepted everyone’s gratitude. Budo thought that people with such a personality were a rare catch nowadays, but apparently he stood corrected.

“Well then, I should get going now.” Taro dismisses himself, waving a hand goodbye to him. Budo’s throat tightened, and he was afraid of letting the opportunity to converse with him and start a bond with Taro slip by.

“Wait–” Budo lurches towards him with a jerk and grips his wrist roughly yet gently, halting the bookworm from proceeding to eat his lunch. Taro glances over to his side, raising an eyebrow. “What– What are you going to do?” The Martial Artist asked, breathing heavily as he loosened his grip on his wrist.

“I’m… going to eat my lunch?” Taro answered bewilderedly, holding up his lunchbox high enough so that it could be visible to the other.

“Let me join you!” Budo gripped his wrist, causing Taro to flinch. Noticing the sudden loudness of his voice, Budo slapped a hand over his mouth, and slowly slid it away to let him speak. “I mean, uh, yeah, let me join you.” He remarked in a softer manner, still with a hint of sternness. He never really had good control over the volume of his voice.

“Uh, sure,” Taro hesitates, but nods either way, eyebrows cocked slightly out of small shock. Budo was glad that he could be able to eat lunch with him, but he must think of him as a weird fellow by now, and he was sure he put up a bad impression from the very beginning. He wanted to improve and change how Taro sees him after the past debate they’ve had, and he acknowledged that he had already failed his objective.

Wish me luck, Budo gulps, hoping for the best.

—

Taro was quiet and prefers reading over doing anything reckless, the complete opposite of Budo’s boastful and loud personality who preferred sparring more than anything else. For Budo, whatever he wasn’t, Taro was -- together, he often felt like they were an unstoppable force, able to take down any obstacles that were on their way.

“Er,” Budo glanced over to the book the other was reading in his hands. “What’s that book you're reading?” He queried. The pair sat on one of the many benches on the rooftop, settled next to the ventilation shaft that the bench they rested on laid for support. No clouds were present at this moment, so rain is yet to be expected for the next following days. The sun shined brightly from the vast blue sky, and it felt breezy on the rooftop that the majority of the students went to to spend their time.

A petite grin came from Taro’s lips. “That’s an unusual question coming from you, Masuta.” He responded. His hair shifted gently along the cold breeze of the atmosphere, flipping a page from what book he was reading.

“Oh, shut up.” Budo rebuked, hands placed firmly on the wooden bench with his back perched on the backrest. “You just seemed really into it so I got curious.” A tip of frivolousness was clear in his tone, and it made Taro slide a snicker out of his mouth.

Taro closes the book casually and held it upright, the cover facing Budo’s direction. The cover of the book contained a single English female, with fair white skin, long brunette hair tied into a neat bun, accompanied with a long flowing dress. The lady was absorbed on staring through the bright window, leaning on the frame with her hand on the glass. The only light source shone was the light outside the window. “It’s Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” A smile stretched his lips -- the title of the book slid so perfectly with his voice.

Taro began spewing words like a machine gun as he talks about the book, the light in his eyes twinkling brightly over his monotoned orbs. Excitement tugged at the corners of his lips, as if invisible elves were playing tug-of-war. “It takes place in Georgian England, where Mrs. Bennet raises her five daughters -- Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia with the purpose of getting married with a rich husband that can support the family. They’re not from the upper class, and their house in Hertfordshire will be inherited by a distant cousin if Mr. Bennet dies. When the wealthy bachelor Mr. Bingley and his best friend Mr. Darcy arrive in town to spend the summer in a mansion nearby their property, Jane falls in love for Mr. Bingley, and Lizzie finds Mr. Darcy a snobbish and proud man, and she swears to loathe him fore--” Suddenly realizing how much information he’s gushed, Taro slapped a hand on his mouth, entirely silencing him from speaking about the book any further. ”Oh my God–” he drew his breath sharply between his fingers, a low gasp escaped from his lips. “My mouth ran off again– I'm– I’m so sorry you had to listen through all that…” He muttered, voice nearly like a whisper in the wind. A light blush dusted on Taro’s cheeks, feeling the embarrassment rise to the tips of his ears.

“Not a problem, not even an ounce of sweat,” Budo grinned at Taro’s bashfulness. In all honesty, he found Taro’s passion for books an odd hobby -- at first he wondered, why was he so absorbed with books? It’s like Taro was in his own world, and that he’s detached himself from everyone else. Why not try other activities? Why not have different hobbies other than reading? These questions swam in his mind before, and the outcome of the dispute he’s started months ago had answered some of his questions; now, seeing how enthusiastic and keen Taro becomes when he chatters about the books he liked, it gave him more personality and feelings, rather than a blank slate Budo originally thought he was. 

“The way you sounded makes it sound really interesting. I mean, I would read it, buut… it’s kind of not my cup of coffee.” His lips pressed into a thin line, relaxing his elbows on his lap.

Taro settled his book down by his side, closing the bento he hasn’t finished eating yet. “Then what genre are you interested in?” He reclined his back on the backrest of the bench, acute on what Budo was going to say.

“I’unno, d’you have anything to recommend?”

Taro crossed his arms, a hand cupping his chin as he went in deep thought over the query. “Well for genres I don't have anything to recommend, but most of the books I've read so far are classics,” he added, “for books, however, I’d recommend Hamlet by William Shakespeare and The Diving Pool by Yoko Okagawa.” Taro folded his arms, resting them on his chest.

Budo’s eyes roamed at Taro’s chest. “Aand… What’re they about?” He asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Well, I wouldn't go to full detail, but Hamlet basically revolves around the revenge of Prince Hamlet, who is called to wreak upon his uncle, Claudius, by the ghost of Hamlet's father, King Hamlet.” Taro casually descripted, eyes drifting around the sky. “And The Diving Pool’s about a lonely teenage girl who falls in love with her foster brother, as she watches him leap from a high diving board into a pool--a peculiar infatuation that sends unexpected ripples through her life.” He stated poetically -- Budo was unsure if he recited this from the back of his mind or not.

“Actually, the library has Japanese copies of Hamlet. That’s where I read it before.” Taro added, fingers folding around his chin.

“Cool, cool,” Budo pursed his lips in response, uncertain on how he would intake all of the data he’s gained today about several distinct books. “I’ll try to check it out when I have the time.”

“How about you, Masuta?” Taro perks, hands held with his fingers knotted together. “Do you have anything to recommend?”

“Er– Well– Not really–” Budo was backed into a corner, doubtful of how to respond since he himself doesn’t read books that much, compared to the one he’s conversing with right now. “That’s why I asked you in the first place, yeah?” He frets, playing with his thumbs as he sat down casually.

Taro stuck his lip out, pouting at his reply. “Well, that’s unfair.” Budo blushed slightly. If he could just tackle Taro and pinch his cheeks by now, he could’ve done so already.

“What d’you want me to do? Kiss you–” he paused, words distorting and slurring like a sloth, “–ooouur sorry ass! D-Do you want me to kiss your ass, then!?” Budo exclaimed, in different emotions. He sweated bullets, deterring his eyes away -- he felt too shy to see how the other would react over his odd wording. Why did he suddenly have the thought of kissing him? What is he, a highschool girl in love?

“I wouldn't mind.” Budo’s jaw dropped in a snap. “--Juuust kidding. Our chat is fine enough, even though I did most of the talking.” Taro gave a little smirk, stifling his laugh over Budo’s visual feedback. Budo’s mouth quivered; was he being teased? By him, out of all people?

Budo faced his direction, a low growl emitting from him. “Give me your ass, you chump.”

“No siree. That’s weird.” Taro chuckled, zipping an inch away from him on the bench.

“Then, would it make you happy if I read the books you recommended?” Budo leaned closer towards him, his hand by the handle of the bench.

Taro sat still, unfazed by Budo’s sudden closeness. “I'm not pushing you to read them, but if you want to.” He gave him a polite smile, and Budo didn't know how to reply to his kindness.

Soon enough, the bell rang, signaling that the lunch break was over for today. Students of different classes fled towards the staircase leading downwards to the bottom floors, carrying along noise and chatter with them as they all climbed down. What became of the noisy gossip-filled rooftop were sounds of the breezy wind blowing through the sky, and Taro had missed this tranquil solemnity whenever he’d go to places where there are barely any passersby.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” Taro rose from his seat and lightly stretched his limbs, grabbing his bento and the copy of the book Pride and Prejudice that sat on the bench. He looked towards Budo’s direction, offering him a kind smile.

His smile was nearly blinding -- his figure standing right before the sun; his eyes, his lips, and his spirit all at once smiled at Budo. Taro captured joy with that beautiful smile of his, and he was awfully unaware of how Budo’s heart melted to the core just by the sight of his lips curling. Budo returned a kindred smirk, standing from where he sat and dusted off his shirt. He placed his hands on his hips, the feeling of accomplishment washing over him.

Reverting to his cheery persona, he cheered out of joy, “sure! Wouldn't want to be late to class, don't we?” 

Originally, he thought the concept of friendships forming is something unexpected since long ago. During his high school years, from junior high to senior high, there were many activities he found enjoyable inside and outside of class -- because everyone of them considered each other as a ‘friend’, it was fun, wide, and shallow. He initially thought everyone will always be there for each other, and Budo still mingles with social friendships, up until now.

It was granted that Budo wasn’t accustomed to this instantaneous attraction and fondness to someone whom he barely even interacted with, nevertheless his classmate, for God’s sake. Despite their lack of interaction and conversation with one another, he still felt alive and remained fond of their small moments where he gets to be with him.

Even though he talks about platonic relationships, something felt divergent when it came to Taro -- he wanted something different from him, and he was sure he wouldn’t be satisfied if they begin as friends and remain as nothing else but friends.

Budo has never seen Taro smile -- a smile filled with joy that was directed towards him, at least. Taro was usually casual, idle, and to be honest, annoyingly blank around him. So when Budo saw that smile tug the ends of his lips, he knew that what he saw was real bliss, real charm, and real joy. His smile was love winking at him, and his heart fluttered when the very moment replays in his head. His chest tightened, and he welled up from the inside; his feelings were a bundled mess, and he was unsure of everything -- was this love, or was this infatuation?


	2. I Will Find Shelter Through You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '' i sing of your love  
> nothing can replace the beauty of your love  
> when i am lost, out of place  
> i will find shelter through you ''

Budo’s in love with him.

Taro never leaves his mind, he's always there -- if not physically, mentally. It's just incomprehensible, it’s bursting out of his chest. Taro is his one stable force, his one stability in a world filled with obstacles and distractions, and Budo so desperately needs that in his life. Budo loves him so much for that, and for so many other reasons that words can’t comprehend. Budo’s in love with him and he can’t believe he’s only just realised it.

He admits, this feeling is so funny and foreign to him; it stretches throughout his whole body -- his chest, his neck, his fingertips, and everywhere else. It’s overwhelming, and yet makes him feel as one and complete. It has no bounds nor length nor depth; it’s just -- absolute. It feels as though he’s in a treacherous fire, yet he’s completely secure at the same time. It feels as though someone’s given him tranquility, a place to stay and relax in peace. It feels as though his heart is dancing around his chest; and a hole, that he was never aware was there, has been filled. He feels so light, like he’s on top of the world, yet his heart is constricting and it feels as if there’s no oxygen in his lungs.

It’s strange – frightening, even – how you can go from someone being a complete stranger, to then being completely infatuated by them and wondering how it ever was that you were able to live without them, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine being without them now. Budo acknowledges they’re only young, and most people would consider him to be a fool in love, but it’s true when he says that he loves Taro more than he could ever love himself, and that must be saying something.

Taro was, as cheesy as it sounds like, his anchor in a deep bottomless trench. He was the final piece of the puzzle. Whatever Budo wasn’t, Taro was, and he feels so complete whenever he stands right next to him.

Love was a dangerous thing, Budo acknowledged this fact. Love is like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, it was a specious, fickle thing, and he knew that not all that glitters is gold. Love was noble but wicked; when inevitably it all fell apart, when dreams were dust and the bitter taste of bile settled on your tongue, you alone stood in the rubble.

For Budo, it didn’t matter to him. It didn’t faze him, not even a flinch.

It was the weekend. Fair weather always seems to play hard-to-get on weekends. During the workweek, everyone toils under life-sucking fluorescent tubes, teased by the blinding sunlight just beyond the windows. But when the weekend arrives, too often it seems to bring gray, drooling skies with it.

The rain has lost the ambient temperature of early fall, freezing and paling Budo’s skin on contact. The path through the park is muddy water in motion, filling deep puddles that hide the ruts of dryer weather. To feel it isn't enjoyment -- not fun like the gentle sunshine of springtime, yet it is a part of life and Budo wants to feel it just the same. He wants to experience each drop, together and apart, same and different. He wants to see the droplets soaking his eyelashes before they join their brethren on the ground like saltless tears. He needs to be in this, chaotic and wild, just like his mind and soul -- like nature looked right into him and pulled the weather out.

“Great.” Budo pulled the hood over his saturated form as he sauntered in the soft rain, small pellets of water spitting on his hands as the remainder of the drops quench the scattered puddles decorating the asphalt. As much as he liked it when the rainy season came, he greatly dislikes it when he suddenly gets damped by the rain while he’s doing errands outside. Through one of the pools of rainwater, the familiar flash of police sirens are brought to his attention. Budo manages to lift his head up just a bit, and when he does, a familiar figure stands miles before him, quickly drawing him in.

WIth the same ash grey hair that nestled gently on his face, and the fair porcelain skin that was curtained by the dark three-fourths sweater, in which it reached only to his elbows, it was Taro. Taro appears to be inside an air-conditioned convenience store, hands roaming around the rows of items he glanced at, and oddly enough, through Budo’s vision, he was the brightest and most radiant being that he’s ever seen throughout the gloomy season.

Without thinking twice, he bolted towards the store, the puddles soaking the soles of his shoes, drops of rain beaded his forehead that caused the strands of his hair to cling to it. With a few more steps, he reaches the entrance of the convenience store, baggy breath heaving and chest hefting up and down. The sliding automatic doors of the store gape open for him as soon as he steps inside, drenched wet with rain water. He could hear footsteps shortly follow the doors opening. His soggy bangs covered half of his eyes, causing his body to accidentally bump against someone.

“Ah, shit,” he cursed under his breath, brushing his bangs to the side of his face. He looked up to see who he met ways with. The person he accidentally knocked into was Taro, with a surprised expression on his face as he towered over Budo.

“Oh? Masuta!” Taro called his name, bemused by how doused he was under the rain. “You’re soaking wet-- so it was you who I saw running towards here,” he tugged his jacket lightly, forcing the cloth off of him, “take this off. Let’s hang it somewhere around here.”

Budo gave him a small smile of reassurance. “It’s-- It’s fine.”

“You getting sick is not fine. Just take the jacket off.” Taro retorted, demanding him to remove his parka by jerking it with a tug. If Budo were to be honest, Taro sounds like a worried mother – not like he didn't mind, though. He liked his generous attitude – it was a rare catch to see people like him nowadays.

“Okay-- fine fine fine--” Budo, with restraint, undid his jacket and lent it to Taro. Taro pressed the piece of cloth and squeezed it dry, grasping both ends of the cloth and twisting it in contrasting directions as he did so. Returning back to the coldness of the store, he draped the parka over a nearby table, leading Budo inside.

“Now, take your shirt off.” Taro spun around to face his direction and suddenly ordered in a demanding tone, his hands on his hips with an open hand extending towards him.

Budo’s eyes shot wide open.“Uh, come again?” A furious blush inched through Budo’s cheeks at Taro’s sudden demand. Was he hearing things right?

“It’s not that hard,” Budo’s eyes widen, “just take it off, squeeze it dry, then wear it again.” Taro explained, cocking an eyebrow as he wondered why Budo suddenly got flustered over the request. “It’s better than you wearing a soaking wet shirt, right?”

 _Oh._ He meant by that. Budo’s blush became lighter; instead, his embarrassment only rose higher for misunderstanding what Taro was trying to say.

—

Budo and Taro seated next to each other by the windows -- no raindrops tainted the glass, luckily enough, since the convenience store’s entrance has curtains hovering over the porch. The pitter patter of the rain echoed loudly inside. Budo loves the rain, he always have. The silver puddles create an obstacle course that only the bravest of them battle. The sky is grey today, well, everything is some form of grey, it always has been on days like this. He sometimes wonders what color things are when it's raining. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe there is only black and white and different shades of in between. That ‘in between’ the space of wonder, of mystery, is a place that Budo loves. He wonders what goes on outside his world of grey on rainy days.

“So what brings you here? Under the weather, too?” Taro perched himself on the table, relaxing his body into a comfortable position as he turned to face Budo.

Budo bore his eyes into his friend -- Taro wore a casual cotton-made sweater with three-fourth sleeves, a dark shade complementing the cloth. He wore navy blue denims as his bottom, and sodalite blue sneakers to accompany his jeans. It’s a rare sight for Budo to spot Taro wearing casual clothing, and now he’s taking the sight of it all in, appreciating the way Taro’s waist curves to his hips, and how slender his arms and legs actually were. It was surprising how their uniforms had hidden his physique _this_ much, and he was glad to be one of the people who got to see him in casual.

“I was just strolling by the park, and it suddenly poured while I was outside, so I went here to take shelter.” Budo stated, clasping his hands together, blowing warm breaths, and rubbing them together to warm up his palms. “How ‘bout you? Whatcha buyin’?” Budo glanced over to Taro, two cups and straws sticking out evident in his side of the table.

“Just came here to buy slurpees for me and my sister.” Taro revealed the drinks, only to show two Slurpees of different flavors; one was flavored Pina Colada, and one was flavored Lemonade.

He jerked, snapping his neck towards him. “Hey!” Budo yelled in half a whisper, “do you know how many calories the slurpees here have?!”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s only once a month, anyways.”

“Still! It’s unhealthy!” Budo retaliated. Now _he_ feels like the worried mother.

“Give it a chance! Just one sip.” Taro exclaimed, mimicking pushy endorsers by the accent of his voice. He grabbed the Pina Colada flavor and extended an arm to him, rattling the icy beverage in his hand in an attempt to persuade him.

“Pina Colada’s the pinnacle of Slurpees~” His voice curled in a mocking tone, a smirk stretching his lips. Budo, shaking his fists, found Taro’s taunting voice absolutely adorable. What Taro says holds some truth, albeit -- aesthetically pleasing to the eye, great for layering, and neither too sweet nor too bland. Not to mention, it’s got the exact same synthetic taste as every other “real” pina colada one’ve ever had.

“Take you and your calories away from me.” Budo shoved the beverage away from him, knitting his eyebrows together with his lips pressed into a thin line.

Taro smiles, a giggle stifled under his breath. “If you say so.”

A long pause engulfs Budo’s voice, but then breaks the silence. “Is that everything you’re going to buy?” Budo asked, pointing a finger at the drink.

 

“Hm? Yeah.” Taro replied, taking a quick sip for the icy Slurpee.

 

Budo raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you still here?”

Taro doesn’t answer at first, rattling the cold drink in his hand as he heaves a breath. “I don’t have an umbrella,” started Taro, “it’s a hassle to go fetch my sister under the rain.”

Budo raises his eyebrows, amused at the new information he’s gained. He wasn’t aware that Taro has a sister. “Your sister.. Never heard you had a sister before.”

“Really? She also goes to Akademi.” Taro took another quick sip from the Slurpee.

“Legit?” 

“Legit.” He cocked a brow, extending a finger as a gesture. “I’m her brother, do you think I’d get it wrong?”

Budo scrunched his eyebrows together, trusting what Taro says. Was he ignorant enough to notice that Taro had a sibling around the campus? “What year is she?” He interrogated.

“First year.“ Taro swiftly said.

Budo’s eyes relax by the quick answer. “Huh, so a freshie.” That explains why he wasn’t so familiar with his sister. Little sister, in this case.

“Yeah. She begged our parents to let her enroll to Akademi High for high school because I study there.” Taro placed the beverage aside, resting the side of his head on the cold surface of the table. “My parents wanted her to enroll to an elite all-girls school.” Budo bowed at the thought, able to sympathize with her decision as to why his sister preferred to go to Akademi instead of some strict all-girls high school.

“I can tell that your sister likes you a lot.” Budo said nonchalantly, eyes fastened on his friend.

“Well… I wouldn’t say a lot.” Taro shrugged at the thought. “It’s just sibling nature, y’know?”

Budo’s headlights wrinkled at what he said. Just reading what he said made him certain that Taro never had actual siblings (or in this case siblings who acted like actual siblings) before.“Sibling nature is fighting each other to the death.”

“You may say that because you’re from a family of martial artists.”

“No, trust me,” Budo placed a hand on his shoulder, informing him of how brutal it could be to have siblings. The way he stroked his shoulder was comforting in some way, as his body drifts slightly towards him. “ _Sibling nature is fighting each other to the death_ , regardless of what family you come from.” He stated sternly, face looming as if he’s speaking by experience (in which he probably is).

“Alright?” Taro’s voice rose, in a bemused tone. “Whatever floats your boat.” Taro was a bit confused, but shrugged it off by the end.

Budo changed the topic, fore arms resting on the table. “Oh, by the way, I found this really interesting book.” Budo stated, gaining the attention of the bookworm he sat beside with. “I didn’t bring it with me, but it’s called The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.”

Taro’s eyes perk at the title. He takes a practically long sip before responding to Budo. “Oh, that rings a bell. I haven’t read it before, but I hear the title from time to time.”

Budo nodded. “I’ve only read the first part though, and it’s pretty confusing and weird. Because it mostly centers around this missing cat and something about fortune-telling.” Which was a weird connection, Budo thought to himself. The more he read through, the moreso he gets confused over where the plot is going. So far, the cat went missing, and that was the base point that rooted to all of this madness. That’s what Budo understood so far.

Taro concurred, eyes drifting away. His arms acted as a stool, settling his head as support. “Speaking of cats, I read this book once titled I Am A Cat.”

“Let me guess, the cat’s the narrator?” Budo inferred idly.

“Bingo bongo. You’ve hit the jackpot.” Taro snapped his fingers rigidly, like Budo just won the lottery after his statement. “It’s just that, basically.”

After a long while, their conversation extended further, and they conversed more about books either one of them haven’t heard of. In the midst of their chat, the rain shower let up and faded elsewhere -- the pitter patter of the rain died down, the sounds of birds chirping slowly resonating within the nature outside. The chaos that boomed in the silver puddles became tranquil. The sky returns back to its natural shade, where everything is now back to its authentic color scheme. The sun rose from the horizon once more and gleamed brightly across the globe, yellow streaks of light painting the surface of the Earth.

Budo notices the slow transition of nature cycling through the day. He finds it so fascinating to witness a monotone, rainy day to a colorful, sunny afternoon all in one sitting. He rises from his seat and strains his joints, feeling loose movement after doing so. “The weather’s let up-- I should get going now before it rains again.” He says, a smile ever so present.

Taro pauses. He beams, grinning back to the boy that stood upright before him. “Sure. Bye, Masuta.”

“Bye, Yamada.” Budo bid him farewell and gave him one last smile -- the words slid so smoothly with his tongue, and it felt oddly satisfying. The thought that -- he was finally friends with Taro at long last, and it felt like a goddamn accomplishment. This, this was his first step towards his journey, and he wouldn’t be called the protagonist of this adventure if he chickened out by then.

He swiftly grabs his jacket from the seat apparent to his, and with under a few steps, the automatic doors of the convenience store unlatched, and gave him entrance to exit the shop. With one footstep outside of the store, he could feel the humidity of the outside once more. Alongside the sun shining brightly after a rain shower, the atmosphere felt both sultry and damp to his sensitive skin. He inhaled a sharp breath, breathing in the warm air that arose, and strided away from the outlet.

Taro watches all of this solemnly, a calm gaze present on his eyes as his head leans against the wall until Budo’s presence was out of his sight. Noticing that his friend had fully left his vision, he stands up, lightly stretches his slender limbs, and paces towards the umbrella rack at one corner of the store.

“Now, where could it be…” Taro trailed off, eyes roaming around the parasols that were left there. He leans down and examines the umbrellas, and once he spots his, he grips and pulls it into his hand. “There you are,” he murmured under his breath. Clutching the bag that contained the Slurpees in hand, and the parasol on the other, he departs from the convenience store as he dragged the end of the umbrella on the damp concrete ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this came out a bit late than i expected it to be, but i decided to publish it anyways because if i didn't it would be stuck in editing hell rip  
> i'm not sure if it's obvious, but a few months had passed since their first interaction and they've grew into eachother as friends!  
> well isn't that just dandy?  
> idk. i tried my best portraying their friendship, but i think it just backfired. i'm still recovering, afterall

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy ahjfksg it's your practically dead author chris back in action  
> it's been months since i last wrote, so please do accept this garbage (for now). i'm polishing my writing so i'm sorry if this hasn't quenched the reader's thirst.  
> english isn't my native language, so i'm sorry if there are some misspellings/grammatical mistakes in the work \\(_ _)/
> 
> how was it? i had a few inspirations for the lengthy intro to be written, and budo's infatuation (?) to taro.  
> sorry if it was cliche. but hey, that's the point of yansim, right? cliche anime tropes. except taro being late to school with toast in his mouth. i would never. and dorito chins?? probably. but no i would never  
> this is going to be a 3-chapter fanfic, so stay tuned (especially on the third chapter, stay tuned for that)


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